People who live in glass houses...

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You can't please all of the people, all of the time. Mostly because all of these people are idiots. When dealing with the idiots in your life, I find it best to always take the high road, and make yourself purposefully look like the bigger idiot. This is effective for a multitude of reasons, but I mostly use it for getting through the work day.

Wow, I literally just had one of those "let's repeat that back to you and spell everything out, making sure to say a word that starts with each letter" people call me while I was typing this blog about morons just like him. I couldn't feel any better about today's subject matter now.

He got to the letter 'V' in his read back, and there was this long pause before he finally said, "as in Visco". I shit thee not. He should have just finished the whole statement and said, "V, as in Visco-Elastic Memory Foam." Then I would've known he was putting me on, trying to take the high road as the bigger idiot as I am suggesting in this very blog. But no. He just said Visco. And he hesitated in doing so, as if to say, "shit, what's a word that starts with 'V'", and "Visco" was the first thing that came to mind. He knows he's heard it somewhere before, but has no idea what it means. Now, he could've meant "disco" or "cisco" or any other number of similar words. But what he said was "visco". And THAT, makes him an actual idiot, and not just playing a fun little game with me to make his day go by more quickly.

Here's my suggestion. Be the bigger idiot first. Own your own intelligence FAIL, long before it ever comes to fruition. Whether you're a "let's repeat that back to you and spell everything out, making sure to say a word that starts with each letter" person or not, become one. And while you're reading back the entire message, letter by letter, word by word, use words that are as fucked up as "visco", and/or, the real nut kicker, say the letter, and then say a word that starts with a completely different letter altogether (i.e.: 'b' as in 'olfactory'). If the person at the other end of the phone asks you to repeat that, because obviously he/she heard that you said "'b' as in 'olfactory'", use a word other than olfactory this time. Just make sure it doesn't start with a 'b', or anything even close to a 'b' sound.

Now, if you're on the receiving end of a "let's repeat that back to you and spell everything out, making sure to say a word that starts with each letter" person's phone call, as I just was, wait until the person starts their read back, and interrupt them whenever you see fit, but well before the end, and just say, "No, that's 'I' as in, "I know you'd like me to sit here and listen to you read me back this message that I gave you, but I'm not going to." Then hang up.

"Phone's ringing dude."

"Thank you, Donnie!"

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Hell Hath No Fury...

Image Courtesy of http://www.penn-olson.com

So it's been a minute since I've posted anything to this blog site, which breaks the cardinal rule of blogging. Of my many excuses (i.e.: I recently moved, I've been busy, I refused to use Comcast for internet and it took AT&T 6 weeks to get DSL working at my new place, the dog ate it, etc.), I have chosen one to be my official statement: I was spending time with my girlfriend. Before you stop reading or think, "hey, that's both a great excuse, and a great way to score some much needed brownie points with the lil' Ms.," let me explain to you why I'm making that my official statement, and why I'm not even lying, and why YOUR girlfriend will never be a forgivable reason to not do more interesting, fun, important things.

The following are the Top 10 Reasons why my girlfriend is cooler than yours:

10.) She has legs.

9.) Her Mom cooks well, doesn't suck as a person, and does a remarkably believable job of pretending to like me, to the point where it's not at all awkward for me to come over and eat her food all the time.

8.) She's a twin.

7.) She's a blogger.

6.) She already had an @google.com e-mail address when we first met.

5.) She can play "Imperial March" on the French Horn

4.) She is half Chinese, and half White, which makes her FULL Hot, like Kristin Kreuk

3.) She drinks beer. Not like Strongbow Cider "beer", but like actual, good beer. Furthermore, she brings some home for me without request.

2.) She fits into a bag that does not have to be checked at the airport. This is good for a multitude of reasons, which I shouldn't even have to explain to you, but obviously since you're girlfriend will never be able to do so, and therefore, aren't ever be as cool, I will. First of all, I can sleep in the middle of the bed, and my 62lb. dog can sleep beside me, and she can still fit next to him. And this bed's only a queen. Secondly, she can fit into a fucking suitcase that would fit in the overhead compartment of an airplane! What are you not understanding about how fucking cool that is?

1.) These words came out of her mouth today: ""...but you know, now that you (finally) have internet (again), on the nights you want to just chull (that's right, as in making fun of they way YOUR girlfriend says the word "chill") and play video games, I can bring over my laptop and blog."

So there you have it. You came here looking for a fortune. Well, here's your fortune: Clearly, indisputably, I win. You lose. Sorry to hear about your loss. Get well soon. Insert other generic, apathetic, and therefore, condescending greeting card gesture here. If you don't like it, break up with your girlfriend, and try to steal mine. Other option (just throwin' it out there): Remember Reason #8. Little warning about that one though, her twin has a boyfriend, too - The Dread Pirate Roberts. 'Nuff said?!

Image (NOT MY GIRLFRIEND) Courtesy of http://www.racerxvt.com

Which Came First...

...The donut, or the donut seat cushion? If it was the donut cushion, then the inventor of the donut did us a great disservice by naming a delectable "anytime pastry" after a disgusting ass planter for people with hemmers. If it was the donut that came before its cushion, then the inventor of the cushion totally effed up the delectability of America's all-time favorite anytime pastry for all of us.

In either case, I'll never bite into a soft, sweet, moist, satisfying donut again without thinking about a giant, hemmer-filled ass cleavage plopping its bloody, blistery, puss-infected purple starfish hole down all over my glaze!

Unless maybe they were both invented by the same person? Makes sense. One leads to the necessity of the other. I mean, how many donuts does it take before you get your first hemmer? It's economics 101: Supply & Demand. It's all about inventing products which create their own demand for another of your products.

Hell, General Motors has been doing that to us for years. By telling us that we should only use Dex-Cool® engine coolant in all their makes and models; going so far as to say, the aluminum radiators will melt under the intense heat of an inferior type of coolant. The only thing truthful about that statement is, "the aluminum radiators will melt" and "inferior type of coolant", and only when you're directing both of those statements at the usage of Dex-Cool coolant itself.

I gotta admit, it's quite a genius marketing strategy actually. You make profit on the sale of the car, the sale of the coolant that goes into the car, and then, when the radiators, intake gaskets, water pumps, head gaskets, and all other parts of your coolant system corrode and become defective as a direct result of the "inferior coolant" you've been making profit on for years (per vehicle sold), you make money on selling the replacement parts for such as well.

Even more genius than that: GM has still managed to find a way to go almost complete bankrupt, in spite of their little coolant "supply & demand" scheme. Now, after completely discontinuing more than half of their various lines, they've made a valiant attempt to come back strong in 2010; launching an advertising campaign with a catchy, confident slogan: "May the best car win."

Well GM, we've been putting your cars to the test "against all other vehicles" for years now, and the verdict is in: YOU STILL MAKE THE SHITTIEST CARS ON THE PLANET. You lose. Now, before you go spending what little money you have left of what the United States government gave to bail you out on more high-dollar advertising, why don't you pay out the some 20 million people to whom you owe money as a result of this class action lawsuit: http://www.aftermarketnews.com/Item/30144/ruling_is_near_on_gm_engine_coolant_class_action_sought_over_dexcool.aspx

If you, or someone you know, or someone that someone you know knows, knows anyone who works at General Motors today, the fact that he or she hasn't already lost their job there is pretty much the lucky equivalent to you having already won the lottery. Which is bad news for you, and whomever you know, because it means all your luck has already run out, and without the satisfaction and financial independence generally associated with having actually won the lottery. Therefore, today...not so good for you, my fiend. Yes, there isn't an 'R' there on purpose. Look it up. You're so conceited.

There's more than one way to cook a potato...

Image Courtesy of recipes.howstuffworks.com

French fries are hot. I mean this in both the Paris Hilton sense, as well as the temperature sense. I know I vowed never to so much as mention Paris Hilton on my blog, but I thought it was important to clarify my meaning in that opening statement, and being that she does own a legal copyright on the term when used as a synonym for "popular", and the last thing I ever want to do (besides sleep with her) is owe Paris Hilton money (for sleeping with her), I am merely covering all my legal bases here.

So anyway, french fries are hot. But french fries are also gross when cold. Therefore, we all suffer through the burning, singeing pockets of shooting grease that ooze out into our raw mouths as we devour them by the horde. And better yet, we all make very different and unique faces when doing so.

For example, there is the "quick blower" face. The eyes of the quick blower gives he or she their trademark: bugged, protruding, focused, and persistent. If the quick blower's eyes had the ability to cool down their french fries, they would have much more success in so doing than the two or three quick, deep breaths (of around 98.6 degree wind) they blow on them.

Similar, but certainly not the same, you have the "slow blower" face. Slow blowers, much like the quick blowers, obviously get their name from blowing on their fries in order to cool them down. However, the slow blower uses the one, long, slow, deep breath method to attempt to cool their fries. A slightly more effective technique (achieving a lower breath temperature of around 90 degrees by the end), however, the tendancy of the slow blower is to not carry out their technique long enough to adequately reduce the scalding temperature of the interior of their fries, leaving their mouths inevitably charred, blackened, burned, and blistered after consumption.

The eyes of the slow blower, unlike those of the quick blower, are less bulging, more relaxed and patient; as if to say, "I've got all day to blow on my fries if I have to, but I'm gonna eat them ridiculously too hot anyway."

The third, and final classification of the fry blower species, is the "inner-mouth blower." Mostly self-explanatory, and almost entirely dirty sounding, the inner-mouth blower has no time to wait for their stanky breath to cool down their fries at all. Instead, the inner-mouth blower uses their tongue, gums, uvula, teeth, and esophagus to absorb the blistering heat that the fry injects into their oral cavity. Their name comes from the passing of the tolerable pain threshold (which happens almost instantaneously), causing them to attempt the quick blower technique once the fry is already inside their mouth.

The eyes of the inner-mouth blower, are similar to those of the quick blower, but with more tears. The mouth is 20% more agape than is safe and sustainable for their jaw bones. The heads are usually turned down, back toward their plates, so that any excess food, blood, fiery tissue, skin, enamel lava, etc. that may fall out, will do so back into a controlled and entirely edible environment.

So if you want success drenched over you like ketchup on your insanely hot plate of french fried potatoes today, heed to what I say: "Order the potato salad. Chew with your mouth closed, and your eyes safely and comfortably in their sockets. And for Fonzie's sake, remember the Realistist Rule!"

I choose not to even say where I got this picture from. Sue me if you must.

Gotta Pay the Piper...

Image Courtesy of www.binarymoon.co.uk

It has been said that plumbing is the worst profession, except for Coprophagia Web Design. Recently, I discovered that hemorrhoids, which will forever now be known by all humankind as, "hemmers", are an all too common occurrence. Just a dash of research will tell you that hemmers are most commonly caused from straining while pooping (official terminology). Other contributing factors could be, but are not limited to: stress, sitting for long periods of time on hard surfaces, chronic diarrhea (don't think it's the actual diarrhea on this one, but more the act of having to chronically wipe. See item #5 in my blog post from 08/21/09 here, for my solution to this issue), and of course, trusty ol' anal sex. Whatever the cause of you hemmers may be, I CANNOT bring myself to look at them.

I'm serious, I cannot do it. I can't even look at a picture of a nameless, faceless humanoid ass that, only allegedly, has hemmers. I certainly cannot look at my OWN hemmers, and not just because of the angle, I mean, if really wanted to, they do make mirrors with handles you know? Which brings me to my next point: I think we should start referring to all handled-mirrors as, "hemmermirrors". (Trust me, I thought about that like, 6 times before I wrote it, and all one word looks WAY better.)

Let us take a moment to reflect back on what you've learned today. (1.) Coprophagia is the official terminology for a demented pervert who likes people to crap all over them, sexually. (2.) No one says "hemorrhoids" anymore, unless they want to look like a fat idiot in front of their friends. "Hemmers" is the preferred nomenclature. (3.) Hemmers can be caused by a number of various factors, including: eating, and therefore pooping, like a fat kid; unnecessary emotional withholding toward the most trivial things in life, about which we can do nothing; laziness; drinking too damn much, too damn often; and of course, trusty ol' anal sex. (4.) I have no idea what a hemmer looks like, and most likely never will because I have an intense, psychological problem which prohibits my eyes from ever being able to focus on one, even with the use of a hemmermirror. (4.) Oh yeah, mirrors with handles are now known as "hemmermirrors."

The plumber's job is to make sure the shit passes through the pipe, making it obvious as to what the pipe's job is. I recommend being the plumber today, rather than the pipe. If your job is Coprophagia Web Design, I'd say you're more or less....the pipe.

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The Golden Rule of Tom Thumb...

Image Courtesy of www.old-picture.com

It's the end of the world as we know it. On this "magical 9's day", everything you thought you knew is about to change. Prepare yourself as the proverbial rug is pulled out from under you. I have adopted a new quote (said by me, of course) which best describes life, and more importantly, my life. I am starting a movement to pass this quote as a rule. Passing a quote as a rule works kinda like how a bill becomes a law, only without all the disgustingly rich geriatrics in suits and bullshit red tape. Nope, turning a quote into a rule is as simple as me declaring it so.

Once I have made my quote into a rule, I will start a movement to replace the Golden Rule with my rule, known hereby as the Realistist Rule. The text of the Realistist Rule is as follows:

"Just do what you're supposed to."

Done.

That being said, I hereby declare this quote be forevermore revered as "The Realstist Rule".

And now that I have successfully turned my quote into a rule, let the movement to replace the Golden Rule with the Realistist Rule begin. In order to accomplish this seemingly overwhelming (to some, perhaps) feat, I must first develop a comparison chart listing all the pros and cons of each rule. And so I have done:

	The Golden Rule	The Realistist Rule
Easy to remember the actual text verbatim
Easy to actually follow
Easy to pronounce
Probable that people will actually follow
Taught by Jesus, and other religious figures
Taught by someone who doesn't believe that religion is an excuse to break it and obtain forgiveness
Delicious sounding (as in, also applicable to pastry baking)
When adhered to, helps you get laid
Looks good on a bumper sticker
Looks good on a t-shirt
Unique, original, trend-setting

As you can clearly see, it was a close comparison, but the results don't lie. The Realistist Rule clearly edges out the Golden Rule in a 7-6 victory, making the Realistist Rule now the single most important thing to remember in the entire Universe, at all times, and thus accomplishing my mission to with it replace the Golden Rule.

Thank you all for participating in this ever important movement. We couldn't have done it without your diligence and tenacity. Now, go back to working or whatever it is you're supposed to be doing right now instead of fucking off on the internet all day, reading my blog.

I mean seriously, there's a fucking Eskimo opposite you! What the fuck? Instantaneous Realistist Rule FAIL!

"C'est la vie" say the Old Folks...

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If I could save time in a bottle, I'd do the following in chronological order: Sleep, wake up, look for a bigger bottle, go back to sleep, wake up, join gamefly and master all video games ever invented, sleep, wake up, invent a time machine, go back in time to 1963, sleep with a Beatle.

I've found it increasingly more difficult of late to keep up with this blog with the sort of frequency I would like. In order to explain this, I have constructed the following too much time on my hands, bored at work, gay, "Random Things" List. As you'll notice, the biggest difference between my list and those canned, cookie-cutter, girlie lists you'll find on all the social networking sites, is that I made mine up off the top of my head, and I'm considerably maladjusted. If any of these statements even remotely echo similarities in you, please leave me a comment. Afterall, it's our own self-indulgence that drives us bloggers to do what we do, so what's the point if no one out there acknowledges our love of hearing our own inner ramblings? Without further ado:

1.) I peel my toenails off. I do not cut them, or trim them, or use an instrument of any kind to make them shorter. I use my fingers, and my fingernails, and I peel them off. Anything else would be too girlie. Most people probably find this disgusting. I ask those people to simply not watch me peel off my own toenails. No, I do NOT eat them when I am done.

2.) I do NOT pee in the shower, and CANNOT understand how, or why, anyone could/would. Go before, or after, but not during. You are not clean when you get out of a shower in which you just peed. If you are the kind of person who thinks me peeling off my toenails is gross, just imagine me peeling off my toenails after they've been fermenting in my own urine for 10 minutes.

3.) I am not afraid of whatever food service people do to my food when I'm not looking. I am not afraid of the trace amounts of urine and fecal matter found on lemons, and most all other food that is prepared ahead of time in public eateries. If you do not close the lid to your own toilet before you flush it, you will find more traces of urine and fecal matter on your own toothbrush, than you will on the lemons in your ice water at a restaurant. Which leads me to my next random thought:

4.) I believe in closing the lid on the toilet when you're done using it. That's what the lid is for. No more of this male/female bickering about men always leaving the toilet seat up, and women always leaving it down. EVERYONE should be putting the seat AND the lid down when they're done, because THAT'S WHAT THE FREAKIN' LID IS THERE FOR. That way, everyone has to lift something every time they go to the bathroom, no one has any more or less "work" to do, and poop and piss does not get all over my toothbrush.

5.) There is absolutely no reason, at all, why Americans shouldn't use a bidet. I swear to something, anything, that I'm putting one in my house. I believe more in the "three seashells" technique from Demolition Man than I do wadded up squares of ultra thin paper. Until Europeans develop an understanding for the condition known most commonly in the U.S as "dingleberries," I'm going to stick to my guns that their methodology is better.

6.) Tampon, douche, yeast-infection treatment, and other "feminine hygiene" product commercials are ALL degrading toward women and should be banned. At very least, they should be made illegal to air between the hours of me eating lunch, and me eating dinner. Men do not buy these products for women unless asked to do so directly, followed by being told specifically what exact kind to purchase. And seriously, of all the stupid women I know in this universe, I don't know any who would actually change their product(s) of choice based on a television commercial. If you are a feminine hygiene product manufacturer, spending your advertising dollars on television commercials is a complete and utter waste of your time and money. If you want marketing results, put your ads in chicky fashion magazines, or better yet, Victoria Secret catalogs. Yes, putting advertisements for feminine hygiene products in a Viki's Secret catalog will no doubt cause more women to buy your product, however, it will also cause men to stop sneaking them into the bathroom during #2 time, which would inevitably lead to a detrimental decrease in slutty panties sales for Victoria Secret. Tough call.

7.) If I wear socks, I never have to wash my shoes, correct? So if I wear underwear, same thing with my pants, no? Well, however you would answer that question, my answer is yes. Clean underwear, undershirts, socks, over shirts, fine. But just try and guess when the last time I washed my pants was. Seriously. I dare you.

8.) As long as there are women in this world who can shotgun a beer, kick their boyfriend's ass at beer pong/flip cup, shoot jager, and/or become head brewmasters, I will never understand why it is considered "girlie" for a man to order an apple martini, or similar fruit-flavored drink. Apple martini's are straight liquor. There is nothing non-alcoholic in them. Why should someone have to drink straight vodka in order to be considered "manly"? Straight vodka just doesn't taste good. You can add all the olive juice (non-alcoholic, you big sissy) to it that you want, and it's still not going to taste any less like bactine.

9.) I go left. If you've ever done the "sidewalk dance" you'll know what I'm talking about. I make it real simple: I GO LEFT! Always. Not for one second do I hesitate. You won't get a dance out of me. I go left. While you're standing there having a two step moment with yourself, I'll be passing you to the left. I do, however, thank you for and applaud your efforts to get out of my way. Anything is better than the "go-straighters". You cannot walk shoulder-to-shoulder, 3 wide on the side walk. There are other people in this world. It is conceivable that at some point, you will pass one of these people on the sidewalk. When you do, MOVE THE FUCK OUT OF THEIR WAY. It is not YOUR sidewalk, nor does the world revolve around you. That being said, I can usually see idiots like that coming, in which case, I make an exception to my "I go left" rule. I find it helps to bring a helmet along with you just for scenarios such as this. Bow your head, quickly strap on your helmet, and make a b-line right at the arrogant straight-walker in front of you. You'll never see a moron move faster.

10.) My patience has expired for people who don't use google programs. If you use an email address that ends with something other than your company, college, website's domain name, or gmail.com, you're an idiot. @aol.com, @yahoo.com, @hotmail.com, @msn.com, etc. are now all unacceptable e-mail addresses. If you are unsure as to why gmail is the best, do yourself a favor and just make the switch. If I'm wrong, feel free to never return to this website again. Also, just so everyone knows, Internet Explorer, iTunes, all anti-virus/anti-spyware/anti-malware programs, and all Facebook applications are virus causing, phishing, spamming, computer bogging, infectious diseases of programming that aren't to be used under any circumstances. Oh, and uh, Twitter sucks! Don't believe me, just look at what google has to say about it:

http://mashable.com/2009/08/11/google-twitter-search/

Google's 10th Anniversary Image, obviously courtesy of www.google.com

Honesty is the best policy...

Image Courtesy of http://images.starpulse.com

If you can't say something nice about someone, banish them to hell on your blog. Tonight I'm going to see my favorite band of all time, Our Lady Peace. This monumental experience fills me with the utmost happiness and anticipation that could only be regurgitated upon by this news:

With Eagles, Vick gets second chance

I'm going to keep this blog nice and simple, for once.

I love Our Lady Peace.

FUCK, Michael Vick.

If you don't love Our Lady Peace, but do love Michael Vick, and are excited to see him return to the NFL, go fuck yourself! And PLEASE don't bother ever returning to this page, because your horoscope will be the same every single day for the rest of your life: If you are ever to meet someone, and fall in love, and its with a woman, she will die giving birth to the baby, whom will soon after be eaten, that she conceived while she was being raped.

Now, rot in some form of a Hell, Mike Vick, and all your supporters.

That is all.

Image Courtesy of www.complex.com

A rooster in the hen house...

Image Courtesy of www.photoshopnerds.com

You can't make an omelet without a stove, a frying pan, some butter or cooking oil, and a few deshelled eggs. Unless you've got your own omelet making robot. Then all you would need is some eggs. Unless your omelet making robot was actually a cyborg chicken. Then, your robot could lay its on eggs, and make its own fresh, hot, steamy omelets. Maybe it's just me, but can you think of three adjectives which describe the taste of cooked eggs in a more appeasing way than fresh, hot, and steamy?

At any rate, don't let "these bad times" get you down. Just wait until 2029. You see, everything that has ever been thought, imagined, dreamed, conceived, hypothesized, theorized, or even just mentioned in the history of the universe will be possible, tangible, and purchasable by the year 2029. So don't worry that you've now foreclosed on two mortgages, and that you haven't been employed since you got laid off 8 months ago, because 20 years from now, you'll be able to purchase a key-chain-sized robot, for about the price of a piece of Bazooka Joe gum, that folds out into a luxurious 18 bedroom mansion in the Hamptons. Okay, maybe not, but you will definitely be able to purchase a robot the size of a key chain that could build you a luxurious 18 bedroom mansion, practically anywhere in the world you want, within 24 hours.

Just wait until 2029, and your total lack of money, skill, intelligence, or beauty of any kind will no longer be a hindrance to you, or those around you. In 2029, (when Kanya West is President of the United States), we will replace all poor, unattractive, talentless morons with "smarter, better, faster, stronger " versions of themselves. Ugly babies will be instantly modified by robot doctors into perfect, flawless, genetically altered, cosmetically enhanced versions of themselves, prior to the breath of life being spanked into them.

Just wait until 2029, when blind people will at last be able to get behind the wheel of a car, as it drives itself to their destination, but it won't even matter because blind people will just be outfitted with technologically engineered, functional eyes.

Yes, in 2029, we'll all be cosmetically, biologically, technologically, and intelligently perfect replicas of our current selves. Death, disease, and poverty will be obsolete, so you can feel free to have as much unprotected sex with as many different partners as you see fit. However, people WILL still pee in the shower.

Image Courtesy of www.virginmedia.com

Counting your blessings...

Image Courtesy of www.freewebs.com

When you wish upon a star, it takes 367,000,978,345,692,1094,984,356.89137 light years for the sound of your voice to reach the nearest star to you at that exact moment. A.K.A. - IT CAN'T HEAR YOU!

If anyone ever reads my other blog (realistism.blogspot.com), they'll know that I'm not the "religious type." Needless to say, I don't pray much/ever. I won't sit here and say that I'm against people who do choose to pray. What I will say is this: Keep your prayers to yourself. Because if you are 367,000,978,345,692,1094,984,356.89137 light years away from the nearest star, you have no idea how ridiculously far you are away from anything even resembling this God fellow. IT CAN'T HEAR YOU!

If you're the praying/wishing out loud type, please consider others, and keep your bullshit to yourself. First of all, it's a commonly known fact that prayers, wishes, spells, charms, etc., cannot penetrate the invisible walls of the earth's ozone layer, so all you're really doing is polluting our atmosphere with an over-abundance of bullshit not even your own mother could make herself care about.

Just STOP it! No one cares whether or not you get that promotion, or if your cat recovers from that stress-fracture surgery. Most importantly, no one cares whether or not their food gets "blessed to the nourishment of our bodies," nor do we think you are a good person just because you make a public "thank you" prayer to an imaginary deity whom has nothing to do with the fact that we are about to gorge ourselves into gluttonous oblivion. You are a self-indulgent ass. Shut up, and stop perpetuating the rate of global warning by burning holes in our ozone layer with your stinky bullshit.

Big opportunities are lurking. Make sure you're getting your sleep so you will be well rested. Take the extra 5 minutes you would spend praying, and just sleep. Remember, you can't project your stupidity on to others as long as you are asleep. Also, consider fasting. You'll need to have plenty of room in that elastic fat sack you call a stomach when you die and come to find out that your precious "Heaven" is nothing more than an eternal all-you-can-eat buffet at the Golden Corral.

WELCOME to HEAVEN! We've been expecting you.

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Going against the flow...

Image Courtesy of http://img.dailymail.co.uk

People in glass houses have got to be getting harder and harder to find these days. I mean, it's really just not all that safe to live in a house of glass if you think about it. With terrorist attacks and all, life inside a glass house would be one constant panic attack after the other. I mean, how often is the homeland security threat level NOT orange or higher? Also, what the hell does that even mean? Am I supposed to be scared of the color orange, or think it looks delicious?

Anyhow, let's get one thing straight here: Glass houses are for plants to live in, not people. Nevertheless, what you often find these days is a growing number of people doing things that people just aren't meant to do. Like peeing in the shower. I have been a part of several conversations in my lifetime during which it became apparent that urinating in the shower is not at all an uncommon thing for people to do.

In fact, during all of these conversations in which I was involved, at least 1 out of 3 people openly admitted to peeing in the shower. This greatly concerns me. First of all, that means there is an equal number of people whom pee in the shower to the number of people whom have the herpes virus. Obviously, this means that herpes is caused from people peeing in the shower, so for the love of God, and your own bodies, STOP PEEING IN THE DAMN SHOWER YOU DIRTY, DIRTY SKANKS (either gender)! Secondly, if 1 out of 3 people is willing to openly admit to peeing in the shower, that means an even great percentage of people pee in the shower and are ashamed to admit it in mixed company. Let's assume, just for a moment, that the number of people unwilling to openly admit to peeing in the shower is only 50% of the total number of people who do admit to it (which we've already established is 33% of the population of the world). That means 1.5 out of every 3 people, or 50% of the population of the entire world pees in the shower. Holy piss that's ridiculous!

My first question(s) to these people is always the same: Is there no toilet in your shower room? I mean, even if there's not, how far away can it be, and how hard is it to remember to go pee BEFORE you get into the shower? And easier even still, if you forget to go before you get in, how long is your freakin' shower that you can't just hold it until you finish? When you have to go pee whilst brushing your teeth, do you just wizz in the sink then?

If you're looking for guidance from a long-time friend about a fork in the road of your life, and you're not a shower pisser; he or she probably is, so stay clear. Learn to make decisions for yourself for a change. You've done so thus far, and look how messed up it's made you. I mean, you can't really mess things up for yourself much worse than you already have, so what do you have to lose? It's better to give yourself bad advice, than to pick up herpes from your shower pissing friend(s). Just steer clear until Apple comes out with its new app for the iPhone which will solve all the world's "golden shower" problems (not to mention curing herpes once and for all):

Introducing, iRinate: The only of its kind app for the iPhone which allows you to scan away your need to break the seal. Just launch the app from your iPhone menu, wave your iPhone over your bladder and kidneys, and voila! Tiny, radioactive lasers pinpoint urine at its point of creation and

blast it away with microscopic, urine-eating bacterium. Never make your friends scoot out of the booth in a crowded bar again. iRinate: We Take the Piss!

If it isn't broken...

Image Courtesy of http://mathewpeet.org

Diamonds are a girl's "b.f.f." If children are "God's punishment to women for enjoying sex," as I've heard on more than one occasion, then diamonds are their reward for being good at it. It's true ladies. Men who have been properly sexed think that they are in love with anything. So, to debunk another (obviously female in origin) cliché, the way to a man's heart is NOT through his stomach, but rather, down his pants with ungodly assertiveness.

I was once part of a conversation (and I won't tell you which part) that went something like this: "I'm too afraid to have sex with Angelina Jolie, because I'm so certain that once I was done, she'd kick the shit out of me, and it'd make me fall in love with her forever." This could actually explain her relationship with Brad Pitt. Tell me those two don't beat the holy hell out of one another after every sexcapade. Something else that this statement explains is the overwhelming stupidity of the male species.

Here's a little secret for all the ladies out there: Every single thing a man does, during the course of his entire life, is done so for the purposes of getting laid. This mentality drastically contradicts that of women's reason for living. Women, much more complex and diverse (a.k.a. - psycho) a species, have several different purposes for which to live, and which may vary depending on a variety of factors in their present lives.

First, and certainly the most common, longest lasting, and most frequently returned to reason that women have to live is to impress other women. Now, this point has been argued time and time again, and perhaps its biggest rival is a little something I'd like to call the "make men jealous theory." While it is true that women do start attempting to make men jealous at a very early age (starting with their fathers), there is an ulterior motive behind this psychology at all times. What men fail to realize (because they think that the universe revolves around them), is that little girls make their fathers jealous in order to impress their mothers. And this mentality carries on through the rest of their lives.

For example, when a man sees a girl dressed up like it's "club night" just to go to Target to buy some shampoo, he thinks to himself, "she must be looking to get laid tonight," (nothing to do with the shampoo). The fact of the matter is, the man is only assuming this because that's exactly what he is thinking about. The woman in question, is actually just trying to make other women at Target jealous of the amount of sexual attention she is receiving from the men. She has no intentions of getting laid at all. It isn't a premeditative thing for women like it is for men. Honestly, women don't know they're going to have sex with you until the exact moment they are crawling into bed with you. And they only give into it then because (usually) there are no other women around to impress. Which leads me to my next purpose women have for living: Caretaking.

There comes a point in every woman's life when they need to assume the role of caretaker. That doesn't always necessarily mean mommihood. It can be as simple as taking care of one stupid, full grown man, or even another full grown woman. When a woman has a man alone in her bedroom (which you now realize she has only done in order to impress other women, and not because she's into the man at all necessarily), she decides to assume the role of caretaker. It's a win/win, truly, for all parties involved. The man, helpless in his own dumbassness, and the woman, molecularly engineered with all the qualities of a good caretaker (i.e.: patience, instruction-giving, stick-to-itiveness, versatility, listening, and consoling), have both finally weaseled their way into a mutually desirable situation. If all goes well, the woman will be patient while the man can't figure out how to do it (patience), give instruction to him on how to do it (instruction-giving), be patient yet again while he continues to fail (stick-to-itiveness), offer suggestions on alternative ways to accomplish the goal (versatility), and finally, listen and console him while he balls his eyes out in embarrassment because he sucks at his one reason for living.

If you're looking for a little spark in your romantic life today, try looking the other way for a change. You suck, and therefore, anyone who's going to be attracted to you has to suck, and therefore, if the two of you ever have children together (god forbid), they will suck, and so on. So, just do us all a favor: Help control the idiot population, and have yourSELF spayed or neutered.

Relationships: Can't live with 'em, too chicken-shit to kill yourself, masturbation gets old. You know what NEVER gets old? Cold Beer.

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Whatever doesn't kill you...

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When in doubt, whip it out, and throw her down. No, I'm not making a reference to your future potential sexual assault charges. I'm talking about your wallet, purse, money clip, what have you. Wherever you keep your money/credit cards/check book/food stamps/etc, take it out, and pick up the tab.

You see, I'm sick of always being the guy to pick up the extra slack from his group of friends, whom all forgot to ask for separate checks at the restaurant when we all went out for dinner, and everyone is now leaving at a different time, so now there is one bill for the entire table, and everyone at the table is paying separately, and with a debit card no less. You've got the "I'm good at math" girl (as if) sitting there writing down what each person owes individually, next to their name, and in descending order according to the order of the debit cards that are all stuffed into that little plastic pocket at the top of the check holder (which is conveniently ALWAYS broken because of lunatics like you).

No! STOP! Put your erroneous math calculating pen down, and just listen to me for two seconds. We can all just sit here for the rest of the night while you mistakenly total up everyone's amount due, and then when you all leave, I can slam down my debit card and pick up the extra $20 you neglected to account for, collectively, or you can just let me pick this one up entirely right now, and pay it forward next time.

Yeah, well, there's never a next time is there? Such is the case with your business and love life today. "Never a next time" means it's time to take that final plunge. If you're holding in your feelings about a particular, special someone, because you aren't sure if the time is right to tell this person how you feel, just do it. They probably don't like you anyway, because you're a shit stain, so you might as well just tell them. At least you'll brighten their day by giving them something to laugh and joke with their friends/coworkers about. So what if it's at your expense. If you truly care about this person, you should want to brighten their day no matter what.

If you've had an idea that you've been sleeping on for way too long already, today's the day to take that chance. Stop being afraid of the worst case scenario, and just go for it, because there won't be a next time to try. Nevermind the fact that right now, as you contemplate this venture in your head, someone with 1,000 times the intelligence to figure out the best strategy, and 100,000,000,000 times the money to invest in applying that strategy, is thinking about the exact same idea as you; making it inevitable that you WILL fail. Now is the time to fail. There won't be a next time.

In fact, I have an idea that's sure to fail: The next time we go out to eat in a group of 6 or more, and the "I'm good at math" girl says you only owe $15 for your entire dinner and 3 drinks, why not go ahead and assume she's an ignorant puketard, and put down an extra 20 spot. That way, at the end of the night, when I'm the last one left to pay, and there's too much money just to pay the check and tip, I WON'T pee in your to go box.

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The apple doesn't fall far...

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Ask, and ye shall receive. If you ask to be treated like a child, by acting like one, ye shall receive. The other day, I received the following e-mail from a co-worker, whom shall remain nameless. However, I do feel it is important to tell you that this same co-worker also attaches all of her hard copies together with florescent paper clips:

Place as little faith and trust, and pay as little attention to all colored-paper-clip-using, email-stationary-background-using morons as you do your own children on this day, or see all your frustrations come to fruition. Here's an example of the best way to do this, in my reply to the above e-mail:

from	A Realistist
to		insanecoworker@anywherecorporate.us
date		Fri, Jul 17, 2009 at 1:47 PM
subject		your new stationary...
mailed-by		realistism.blogspot.com

Dear <name removed>,

I just love your new stationary. Wanna come over and clean my dishes/car? I figured you might. After all, what are kids for if not for the completion of household chores; sparing me the expense of an illegal immigrant housekeeper?

See you tonight,

Herbie Sukaluski

Image Source: http://farm1.static.flickr.com/54/131344609_2b9f9b47ed.jpg

Here's a bright idea...

Image Courtesy of www.burning-pants.com

Do unto others as you would assume they aren't intelligent enough to do unto you. Good deeds are becoming increasingly fewer and far between these days. As with pretty much all other unexplainable things in this universe, I can explain this. It's quite simple really. You see, people are becoming increasingly more and more ignorant, thereby making the performance of good deeds increasingly more unrewarding.

For example, the other day, I gave directions to a guy who had clearly been on safari for about the last 75 years, and since he's returned, he can't find his house, or a shower, or a change of clothes. Anyhow, this guy proceeds to cut me off, mid-direction-giving, to exclaim, angrily, "Just forget it," as he stormed off.

Just two days after Senile Safari Guy douched it up for me, an ACTUAL homeless guy came around begging for some money for food. Of course he waited until I had my cash out to pay for the check at the local burrito eatery to do so. Luckily, my friend was quick to offer the bum her uneaten half of a burrito she had in a to go box, but not quick enough to avoid having to hear this man's sob story about how he hasn't eaten in days and blah, blah, blah! Upon offering her leftovers for his dining enjoyment, the vagrant said, "no! What I would like is a couple of dollars to get something to eat."

Now, allow me to translate that for you laypeople. First, I'll structure together all the dialog into one compound sentence:

"May I please have a couple of dollars to get something to eat because I haven't eaten in days, but I don't want your leftovers, just the money."

There are one of two things possible in this statement:

#1 - The man could actually eat only cash money. A very specific form of the eating disorder Pica, and a very expensive one at that. This option could explain how he ended up homeless in the first place, but could not explain how he is still alive at his age, as the body could not survive for 40+ years on paper alone.

#2 - Having just eaten from a dumpster, the man has no need for food, only for crack, smack, coke, heroine, ice, X, meth, alcohol, etc. This option could explain how he ended up homeless, as well as how he is still alive, but what it can't explain is why he would lie about needing money for food. Let's face it, every one respects the guy on the corner holding up the sign that says "Need Money for Beer", but no one likes a lying, manipulative, crack-headed imbecile.

So do unto others indeed on this day. Share and share alike, and reap the rewards for doing so ten-fold. For every dollar you donate to a crack-addicted bum, I will senselessly beat one of his or her illegitimate offspring. Don't know where to find any crack-addicted bums? Too scared to go out onto the streets at night, alone? Just send your money directly to me, and I'll find a crack-addicted bum with illegitimate children to brutally assault for you. It's a win/win, sure thing.

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